


This Used to Be Fun But Now We're in Love

by blak_cat



Category: Carmilla (Web Series)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 08:57:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,449
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blak_cat/pseuds/blak_cat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>At the end of all things, they are always running. The library is dark and cold and Carmilla doesn't know how to make it any better, but maybe there's comfort in being together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Used to Be Fun But Now We're in Love

_You set me up when you wake the ghost in me, as you shake the ghost in me, you said enough to wake the ghost in me, no mistake this ghost in me has found a home..._

\--

Carmilla had to drag Laura down the tunnels. As soon as the trapdoor slammed above them she was frozen in the dark, even with LaFontaine shouting from down the hall for them to hurry. Carmilla gave her a nudge and she took a few steps but looked more a puppet than a person and skittered to a stop before they made any progress. 

“Laura,” she whispered, nudging her again. 

This time she did not remove her hands from her shoulders as she guided Laura down the stone passage. She obeyed, but her head and shoulders bounced with each step like a raft being pulled downstream.

“We need to walk faster,” she whispered, trying not to sound mean but Laura’s baby steps were beginning to grate on her.

“If we’re going to leave Perry behind then do it with a purpose,” LaFontaine shouted from a few yards ahead and Carmilla glared. 

“I’m trying,” she hissed and put a little more force behind Laura’s back.

Wherever her mind was, it got the hint, because Laura’s steps became truer and longer and her body more rigid until eventually Carmilla dropped her hands from their perch and marched behind her. She kept her ears alert for the sounds of beind followed but all she heard was occasional dripping from the walls, the light footsteps ahead of her, and the clank of her own chains at her neck. They rubbed painfully.

“Which way?” Laf called mechanically and Carmilla stepped in front.

She looked down the fork in the passage. She actually had little plan for destination, it was more a focus on the moving. But she thought Laf might actually pop if she shrugged her shoulders and picked a path so she very purposefully turned left and hoped it didn’t drop them off in a dead end. She’d escaped death a few moments earlier but somehow she imagined Laura would not be up to rescuing her a second time. They followed behind and Carmilla inhaled, looking for anything in the air that hinted where they ended up. It was a lot of dirt and limestone but the more she walked, the more she felt must on the air. They were nearing some building. Hopefully abandoned, most likely not. 

The more she walked, the more she recognized it. Books. Lots of old books. Her mother _would_ give herself a clear shot to the library. She wondered how many of the leather-bound and borderline prehistoric books in that house were actually parcels that took a road trip through this passage. 

They reached a large metal door. 

“Where are we?” LaFontaine asked. 

“The library,” Carmilla said, stepping forward to pull on the archaic handle. Locked. 

She gripped the handle tighter and yanked down and a groan from the door twisted the metal until a small tinkle on the stone signaled the release of several bolts, She yanked again and the handle was, jagged, and torn, but separate. She dropped it to more clangs and pulled in the new opening until the rest of the door obeyed and it slowly swung open. 

“In,” Carmilla said. 

They did not need telling twice. Laf and Laura rushed in and Carmilla followed after, pulling the door back closed behind her. She’d need to find a way to barricade that. Just in case. 

“Great, now what?” Laf said, taking to a pace between piles of books. 

“We take a breath,” Carmilla said. 

“You don’t even breathe,” they shot back and Carmilla rolled her eyes as they followed with a muttered, “Sorry.” 

“Just…take a seat, okay?” Carmilla said. “I’m going to have a look around. Maybe this place can cough up some wire cutters to get this thing off my neck.” 

She took their silence for compliance and walked off into a few of the stacks of books. She walked a few steps more, hoping the library was in as giving of a mood as it was a few nights ago when it laid out some B positive for her next to a cellphone. With the immediate danger passed, the embarrassment of the color on her neck sunk in and she started yanking at the chains as she looked around for a hammer or pliers. The pull on the chains only rubbed them harder into her neck and pushed enough to leave bruises, even on her long-dead skin. 

The library was generous. A large pair of metal cutters was sitting on a table between two rows of books and Carmilla lifted them to her neck, trying to find an angle to maneuver them over any of the links but she couldn’t get a hard enough grip. She groaned through a tightly furrowed brow as she pushed on the handles. Eventually the whole thing gave and she clonked herself in the back with the slipping pliers and cursed. 

“I can help,” came a small voice from somewhere behind. 

Laura stood there pulling at the edges of her jacket like it was the realest thing in the world, like every tug was unburying a body or suturing a wound. But her eyes were earnest as she looked at her. The fog over her eyes was reflecting ghosts and Carmilla picked up the pliers, shaking her head. 

“I got it,” she said. “Just rest.” 

Laura, to no one’s surprise, did not listen. She took purposeful but shaky steps forward and placed her hands over the ends of the pliers. She gently pulled them away and Carmilla’s hands went slack, dropping to the table as she leaned forward and bowed her head to give Laura more access. 

The pliers clicked into place and with some weight from Laura and a slight squeak from effort they snapped the chain at her neck and they dropped to the floor. Carmilla’s hands went to her neck and rubbed through the tenderness. It must look bad because she turned around to find Laura wincing, eyes to her neck. 

“Thanks,” Carmilla muttered and took the pliers from her hands without protest, dropping them onto the table, kicking up dust. 

A twitch in Laura’s wrists told her she was fighting the urge to reach out see what she could sooth with her fingertips. Another time, Carmilla might let her. But she might catch fire if that happened. So instead she pressed forward and walked back to the light LaFontaine set up next to one of the phone there. 

“Come on,” Carmilla said, turning around to face Laura. “You can…let your viewers know you’re okay. Document. Just like always.” 

It seemed absurd but Laura required something normal for a moment or two and her webcam always seemed to have a calming effect on her. Maybe it was because, as long as the webcam was on, it meant this was all just a story. It’s not really real if they’re filming it and if she speaks to the camera, then she’s not so alone. On a macro level, Carmilla should probably be trying to curb this destructive coping mechanism, but for now, if it could get Laura to stop shaking, she’d take it. 

“There, surveillance mode,” Carmilla said when the phone finally obeyed and clicked on. “You can document to your heart’s content and complain about how you’re stuck with me as a roommate again.” 

She didn’t laugh. 

“I thought the library was gone, how did you find it?” LaFontaine said through dead eyes.  
“It found me.”

“Perry should be here and .J.P. They were right there and I just—“

Laura leaned over to place her head delicately on their shoulder and hold tight to their arm. Carmilla kept her hand on their shoulder like it meant anything at all. 

“We’ll think of something,” she sighed and they nodded. 

“I killed him,” Laura said, almost making her jump. “I killed him and we lost Danny and Perry and the whole school. 

“You did what you could.” 

“What are we gonna do now?”

That seemed to be their question. Reacting from one disaster and causing another. And Carmilla had no answers now and now fast quips to lighten a mood so heavy she thought she might be back in the ocean again, diving for that sword. 

“I really don’t know,” she said. 

She wondered if it was the right thing to say or not, admitting there were no more turns to take. Confirming Laura’s fears that this was as bad as it felt. But no lie would make her feel better either. 

Laura turned to look at her and she let her, as if she had a choice. She looked back and let Laura’s whiskey eyes work her over like a chisel. Chunks of her fell away under that gaze and she held it even if her insides when slack, she owed Laura this much. She owed her judgment and perhaps even sentencing. Now that she was alive perhaps Laura would banish her again, the symbol and reminder of everything that went wrong. 

But instead she said: 

“We should get cleaned up.” 

Carmilla nodded and pulled back and walked away. She was already wiping at the blood on her mouth, doing nothing but smearing it, half-dried and sticky. 

“Here, let me,” Laura said, pulling her back. 

LaFontaine stayed on the ground, latched onto the light and Laura carefully used the edge of her sleeve to meticulously rub at the blood dosed on her chin. 

“You were never much good at cleaning yourself up,” Laura chastised with only a hint of teasing through nearly-dead eyes. 

“Do they hurt?” Carmilla said, her eyes flitting between Laura’s chest and forehead, both opened from war. 

“Not as much,” Laura said quietly, focusing on Carmilla’s mouth. 

A dew tables away the library had laid out water and clothes for them and Carmilla chuckled to herself. 

“I think it likes me,” she said, picking up a rag and dipping it into the bowl of lukewarm water. “That makes someone I guess.” 

“I like you,” Laura said quietly. 

She took the rag out of Carmilla’s hand without preamble and wrung it until it was nothing but drips and carefully brushed it over Carmilla’s mouth, catching her slightly parted lips and repeating the process. Her free hand was cradling the side of her jaw in a position Carmilla knew all to well. 

When Laura was satisfied with her work on Carmilla’s face she eyed her neck and dipped the rag again. 

“I’ll live,” Carmilla said. “But we need to clean those.” 

Laura didn’t protest when Carmilla relieved her of the rag and picked up a second one. She wet it and, as carefully as she could manage with world weary hands permanently stained red, caressed the wounded skin of Laura’s chest. She flinched, only slightly and Carmilla pulled back until Laura nodded and she set to work, cleaning the gash and fighting the urge to hunt down and rip the arms off whoever did that to her. 

_You did that to her…_

Carmilla cleaned her some more until she was satisfied that Laura’s chest would be infection free. She moved to her forehead, holding it gently, and repeating the ritual. She made sure to avoid Laura’s eyes at all costs, though she could feel them on her like her cheeks were catching fire just from the gaze.

“I’m sorry I took so long to help,” Carmilla said, dropping the rag. 

“I’m sorry I asked more from you,” Laura said. “After all the things I stole.” 

“Whatever I have is yours to steal,” Carmilla said with a sad smile. 

She half expected to be berated again for her submissiveness and unwillingness to move a finger for anyone but Laura. Instead she was met with nothing but a dead stare and she hoped Laura wouldn’t be catatonic forever. She’d rather her head be rolling on her mother’s carpet than never hear Laura ramble again. 

“We’ll figure it out,” Carmilla said. “I know it’s like asking for a snowstorm in the Sahara, but you should sleep.” 

Laura _almost_ laughed at that. 

Carmilla nodded and stepped back to give her space before a small, warm hand covered her wrist and held tight. 

“Where are you going?” she asked. 

“Find food, maybe even some for me if this thing is feeling nice tonight,” she said. “You should sleep in the meantime.”

Laura shook her head and Carmilla sighed. She nodded her head towards the hall and turned around, Laura followed. The dipped into a few of the aisles to little fruition beyond a flashlight. 

“Did he hurt you?” Laura asked ask casually as she could. 

“The Zeta’s certainly had their methods to capture me,” Carmilla said evenly. 

In truth, they’d beaten her. They’d knocked her around with clubs until she stopped squirming and then threw her into a prison sell. But Carmilla wasn’t going to admit that, even if Laura’s face told her she already guessed. 

In the end, she got Laura to settle down only by promising to stay next to her while she slept. Carmilla found a blanket and pulled it around her and Laura hugged it like it was home. She spent a few hours leaned against Carmilla’s shoulder, though she doubted she truly slept. LaFontaine made no secret of their wakefulness, pacing constantly and pulling out random books to read. Carmilla took to more exploring when Laura finally released her.

She had no time for butterflies at the implications of Laura bringing herself to kill another person to save her. There was nothing nice or romantic about it and it was eating up everything inside Laura and Carmilla didn’t know how to make it stop. And somehow, she thought her presence might only hasten Laura’s collapse but she held her tight and kept her eyes trained on her like she might vanish any second. Maybe Carmilla was her lifeline. And maybe, just maybe someday soon, Carmilla could chase away the black spots blistering Laura's heart, even if she was the one who put them there herself. The days of them giggling to each other in the night, winking over dinner while they played footsie under the table, playfully biting shoulders to keep from getting loud was gone. The world where they blissfully kissed that first time months ago in Laura's dorm was over. Whatever this was, it was darker and meaner. 

And yet they were still here and they were still less than a breath away from each other, Laura's heartbeat joining them in the dark. Just as it should be. 

There was always tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> Let no one say I am not fast. 
> 
> Song used in title/prologue: Tapedeck by Silversun Pickups


End file.
